Lazarus
by SmokeyTV
Summary: Post "Grave Danger" and some post "For Warrick" He wasn't raised from the dead, but he came as close as anyone could come. Nick deals with the aftermath of his near-death experience and how it affected some of the people in his life.
1. Chapter 1 Warrick

**This is a series of 6 fairly short chapters based on a song called "Lazarus" by Carrie Newcomer. You can check out the entire lyrics and hear part of the song on her web site (****.com****), and I highly recommend that you do!**

**The song talks about Lazarus after he was raised from the dead and how he felt out of place afterward, like he didn't belong anywhere anymore, like he wasn't dead OR alive now, and how people looked at him in different ways and treated him differently…like he was to be pitied, feared, etc.**

**I thought that was a very interesting subject matter to delve into, and Carrie did a great job. It's a beautiful song. And then I thought that perhaps it was a bit like that for Nick after "Grave Danger", so I decided to explore that a bit. And this is the result. **

**Portions of the song lyrics are presented throughout in italics where they parallel what is going on in the chapter. I think they fit perfectly with some of the feelings Nick and his co-workers might have been having.**

**I hope you enjoy it!**

**Chapter 1**

**Warrick  
**

_I'm the one that he saved  
_

_I'm the one that he raised_

_From the dark quiet sleep _

_From the peace of the grave_

"How can you be so calm about all this, man?"

Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes were sitting across from each other at a table in the lab's break room having lunch. For what seemed like the hundredth time since "The Walter Gordon Case", as everyone called it, Warrick had tried to get Nick to talk about it, to tell him something…anything…about how it felt to be that close to death. But Nick was shrugging him off again.

"What do you mean?" Nick replied.

"I mean a flip of a coin put you suffocating underground and nearly eaten alive. How can you be so cool about it?"

"What do you want me to do, Warrick? Mope around and feel sorry for myself? It's over." He took another bite of his sandwich. "Why are you so worked up over it anyway?"

Warrick was growing more agitated by the minute. "Because, man! A flip of a fucking coin…if I had lost that toss I'd be dead now! I don't know about you, but that bothers me!"

Nick continued to munch on his sandwich, nonplussed and a bit confused. "Why would you be dead? I'm not dead."

Warrick shook his head, exasperated by Nick's lack of understanding. His voice was quiet, but shaking as he responded, "Because. I would have taken myself out within the first thirty minutes."

Nick laughed. "No, you wouldn't have!"

"Don't say that!" Warrick exploded. "Why does everybody say that?! You don't know. You don't know how I would have felt or what I would have done!"

In a flash, Nick's demeanor changed. His smile disappeared and darkness crossed his face. It was as though storm clouds had raced in, hiding the bright sun of his façade. His deep brown eyes narrowed as he leaned in close to Warrick and spat out, "Are you fucking crazy?"

Warrick was taken aback by the sudden change and the venom in Nick's voice. He pulled back as if Nick had struck him with his fist instead of his words. A fist would have hurt less.

Nick continued, "You don't think _I_know how you would have felt? _I_don't know?! If I don't know, then who the fuck does? How many other buddies do you have that have been buried alive? You don't think I wanted to do it? Hell, you found me with my gun under my chin!"

"Yeah, but…"

"Yeah, but…yeah, but…" he mimicked Warrick. "That was after nearly 24 hours, right?" His voice was getting tighter, his eyes misting up. "Jesus, Warrick…I must have put my hand on that gun a hundred times; every time the light came on and the fan quit running; every time the plastic creaked like it was gonna give way; every time a fucking hallucination made me think I was already dead. And then…then…"

"I know. I know, man," Warrick interrupted, looking down at the table and then up at the ceiling…anything to avoid Nick's eyes.

"Shut the fuck up! You don't know! You don't!" Nick yelled. As the rage boiled and overflowed, he jumped up, violently knocking his chair over. He leaned over the table, his face so close to the other man that Warrick couldn't help but look him in the eyes. "And then God really one-upped himself, didn't he? The damned ants came in. And I wanted to reach for the gun again, but I couldn't because…it hurt so bad. So I just laid there and took it, like I always do, right?" He laughed a small laugh, but his expression betrayed his true emotions. He was angry and frustrated and disgusted with himself. "I couldn't even do the one thing that would end the pain. So you know what, Warrick? If you could have done it, then bravo, man. Bravo."

Nick backed away from Warrick and turned his back to him, lowering his head.

"So why didn't you do it?" Warrick whispered.

Nick shook his head slowly, his back still to Warrick. His mind flooded with all the reasons he should have done it, all the reasons he wanted to do it, and all the reasons why he couldn't do it. He was slowly losing his composure as everything came back to him. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to have to think about this, to process this. Especially not here. Not now. But Warrick was still behind him, waiting for an answer, and this time he wasn't going away.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Nick turned to face his friend. Their eyes met for a moment before Nick shifted his gaze to the floor. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling before speaking. "I just…I couldn't…" He let out a heavy sigh and decided to just get it over with. "I didn't want you guys to find me like that. I didn't want my parents to have to see me like that either, nothing left, just blown away. I couldn't put them through that. And…I just…I didn't want anyone to think I gave up."

His head still bowed, Nick sniffed a little and brought his hand up to wipe away one escaped tear from his cheek. He took a deep breath and looked up at Warrick again, smiled and shrugged. "That's it," he said, chuckling a little, his eyes still moist. "That's all." He let out a deep breath and began gathering up the remnants of his lunch. "C'mon…we need to get back to work."

Warrick sat at the table, still stunned by the outburst. "Hey, Nick…I'm sorry, man. I…I didn't mean to…you know…"

"It's all right," Nick replied without looking up as he continued to clear the table.

"No, it's not. Would you just stop for a minute? You said your piece; let me say mine."

"I don't need to hear it, Warrick," Nick said, putting his trash in his lunch bag and reaching for a crumpled napkin. "Keep your guilt to yourself, okay?"

Warrick grabbed Nick's arm as he was picking up the napkin. "Just STOP it! Will you just stop and listen to me for a minute?"

Nick looked up, startled and angry. Instinct nearly made him jerk his arm away from Warrick and punch him in the face. Instead, he threw the bag in the trash, picked up his overturned chair, and sat down across from his friend. He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest, a move that both protected and distanced him from Warrick. "Fine. Say it. Tell me how bad you feel that it was me and not you. Tell me how you wish you'd lost that coin toss or had let me taken the other run. Tell me how you'd trade places with me if you could."

"That's just it," Warrick responded, biting his lower lip as he looked down at the table and whispered, "I wouldn't."

"Wouldn't? Wouldn't what?"

Warrick looked back up at Nick and into his eyes which had dilated to the point of total darkness. "I wouldn't trade places with you."

Shocked, but intrigued, Nick spoke softly. "Go on."

"I know it's wrong. I know the good friend is supposed to wish it was him, to want to sacrifice himself to save his partner, but…" Warrick stopped and shook his head. "Jesus! All I could think about while you were gone was 'Thank God it wasn't me'."

Warrick looked up to gauge Nick's reaction before continuing. Seeing that Nick was still listening, he felt he could go on. He might as well. There was nothing left to lose at this point. "I know I wouldn't have lasted. I know I would be dead now if that had been me. I don't care if you wanted to do it and couldn't. That's where we're different. I wouldn't have thought about anyone else but myself." He laughed. "But that's you, right? That's good ol' Nick Stokes, always thinking about everyone else, never thinking of himself."

By now Nick was biting his tongue and fighting to stay seated. His heart rate was picking up as he felt anger welling inside of him, but damn it…he couldn't argue with what Warrick had said. It was true. Even now, as he listened to the tirade about his character, he was empathizing with Warrick. _Typical, Stokes,_ he thought. _Typical._

His friend continued, "But not Warrick. No, not hard-ass, gambling, drinking, womanizing, ball-busting, thoughtless, selfish Warrick. I wouldn't have given a shit about anything or anyone but myself and ending it all. Everybody thinks…they think…yeah, Warrick's feeling guilty 'cause he thinks it should have been him." He looked Nick directly in the eyes again. "But I'm feeling guilty because…I'm glad it was you and not me."

An awkward moment of silence ensued as they sat looking at each other across the table. Warrick desperately wanted to look away, but held his gaze until Nick finally spoke. "I'm glad too."

**All of the chapters are finished. They just need tweaking, so it won't be long between updates. **

**Thanks to my buddy in all things artistic, Egeria, for her input, encouragement, and eagle eyes! :-) Without her, this might never have gotten finished!  
**


	2. Chapter 2 Super Dave

**Chapter 2**

**Super Dave  
**

_I don't see a veil _

_between heaven and hell_

_The truth is there's nothing _

_but warm light and singing._

"Go ahead."

Nick and David Phillips were in the autopsy room. A 37 year old female lay on the table, a gunshot wound to her chest. But Nick's attention was focused on the Assistant Coroner. Ever since Nick had entered the room, he had caught David staring at him whenever he thought he wasn't looking.

"Go ahead and what?" asked David nervously.

"Go ahead and ask me."

David looked down and cleared his throat. "Ask you what?"

"Ask me whatever it is that you want to ask but are afraid to because you think I might freak out or something."

"Oh…well, I just…uh…" David stuttered, embarrassed at having been called out on the thoughts he had tried so hard to hide.

Nick sighed. "It's okay, David. Everybody wants to know what it was like. So let's get it out of the way so you can stop wondering and start looking at me normally again and not like I just slithered out of a body bag."

David felt his stomach drop. It wasn't that Nick had accused him of wondering, because he was right about that. And it wasn't that Nick thought he was uncomfortable around him now. That was true as well. But Nick had called him 'David'. Not Super Dave. David. And it stung.

The young coroner's assistant had always felt a little uncomfortable around the CSIs. True, he was well-educated and very qualified for his job, but he still felt overshadowed and insignificant next to them. They carried themselves with an air of importance at a crime scene, commanded respect as they investigated everything from the largest airplane to the smallest fiber, and helped survivors find closure. And David? David showed up to cart away the bodies when they were done.

But through the years, Nick had taken to calling him Super Dave. He knew it was just a nickname…just Nick's way of kidding him. But it meant a lot to David. And it made him feel included and like a part of the team. And sometimes…just sometimes, it made him feel like he really was doing something important…something to help.

But now he was just "David" again. And he wondered if it was because he wasn't Super Dave anymore or because Nick wasn't Nick anymore.

David turned his attention back to the dead woman, combing her hair and then scraping her nails for evidence. It was easier for him to speak while he was busy with something he was comfortable doing. And it was easier not to look at Nick while he spoke. "It's just…" He sighed as he put the scrapings in an evidence envelope. "It's just that I see them every day. The bodies, I mean. And I help send them off to the funeral home, and then I never know what happens to them. Maybe they're cremated or put in a mausoleum, but most of them are…" He stopped, unable to continue and unwilling to look up as Nick finished the sentence for him.

"Buried?"

"Yeah," whispered David. "I think about them all the time. I wonder about them. I dream about them. I think…what's it like? Once you're dead and…buried. Do you know you're dead? Are you really in the grave, or are you somewhere else?"

"I don't know, man," said Nick. "I mean, I didn't die, you know? I don't think it's the same thing."

"But you were there**. **Like them. Underground. In a box. You can speak for them."

Nick laughed, and David shot him a quick, wounded look. "I'm sorry, David, but I don't speak for the dead. I'm not some kind of psychic or whatever."

David handed the evidence envelopes over to Nick. "Never mind," he said, turning away and gathering his utensils up. "Do you want anything else or can I start washing her now?"

"C'mon, David. I'm sorry. I wasn't making fun of you. But I really don't know what you want to hear."

David stopped gathering up his things and looked at Nick over the body on the table. "I want to hear what it was like. I want to hear that it was peaceful and you weren't afraid."

Nick laughed again, this time humorlessly. He bowed his head, running a hand over the stiff muscles in the back of his neck. "Well then, you're going to be disappointed, because that's not what it was like at all."

"See?!" David exclaimed with a smile. "You DO know what it's like!" Then a horrified look crossed his face. "Oh gee…gee, I'm sorry. That was stupid. You know what? Never mind. Really. I don't know what I was thinking. Forget it. I'm sorry," he stammered. He turned and walked away, pretending to be busy with something at the sink and hoping against hope that Nick would just leave now.

After a moment, all was quiet behind him, but there was no way to tell if Nick had left through the silent, swinging doors. Still, David waited, his head bowed.

"I could see the dirt."

David raised his head at the sound of the whispered words.

"Then later…I could smell it."

David turned around and saw that Nick was still standing exactly where he had left him, hands in the pockets of his lab coat, looking down at the dead woman on the table as though he were speaking to her.

"I could smell it…you know…," Nick said softly as he continued to stare at the woman's face, "…after I shot out the light. Before that, it wasn't so bad. But the smell…it made me sick. The dead don't have to worry about that though."

David's eyes darted between Nick and the body he was addressing. His heart was beating rapidly, but his breath was slow and steady. He stood still, afraid to make a move or a sound that might disturb the scene in front of him.

Nick took his hands out of his pockets, putting one to his mouth to chew on a nail. With the other, he reached out and touched the woman's face, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I think…if you can't see the dirt…or smell it…it's going to be okay."

David wrinkled his brow and looked around the room, nervously wondering if he should leave and go get somebody.

Nick put his hands back into his pockets. He cocked his head to the side and frowned at the woman. "It wasn't quiet, though. No, it's not peaceful. There were all kinds of little sounds in the dark. Hums and squeaks and ticks and…voices sometimes. But…I think that…some of them…maybe they were in my head. I don't know." He shook his head.

"Um…" David cleared his throat. "Nick?"

"There wasn't much room."

"Nick?"

"But that won't matter either. It's nothing to worry about." Nick reached out again, this time stroking the woman's arm. "I think you'll go somewhere. You won't be in a box. But me…I wasn't supposed to be there. I wasn't dead _or _alive. That's not how it's meant to be. I was just…"

Nick pulled his arm back, putting his hands into his pockets again, and sighed as he finished the sentence. "Caught." He looked up at David. "Caught in between, Super Dave." He turned his back to the flustered Assistant Coroner and walked through the swinging doors, his voice drifting back into the room. "Just caught in between."

**More thanks and praise to be heaped upon my beta, Egeria! And thanks to all those who have read, subscribed, and reviewed. It is much appreciated! I have four more chapters ready to post. Until then, please keep leaving feedback. :-)**


	3. Chapter 3 Grissom

_I'm the one who owes much_

_But that no one will touch_

"Hey, Archie, I…"

Gil Grissom was walking into the AV lab, his head down, reading a video transcript, when he looked up and saw that it was not Archie at the computer, but Nick. He stopped short and quickly glanced around the room. "Sorry, Nick," he said. "I was looking for Archie. I'll come back." He turned and left as quickly as he had come.

Nick had barely had time to even notice that Grissom had been there, let alone enough time to register that he was gone. He had always felt the distance between himself and his boss, and he tried not to take it personally, chalking most of it up to Grissom's odd character. But he had to admit to feeling a twinge of resentment when he saw Grissom chatting in his office with Catherine after a shift or laughing it up with Warrick in the locker room. And Sara. Even without words, he could tell that she and Grissom shared some sort of connection. And a silent connection was better than none at all.

As distant as he normally was though, Grissom seemed even farther out of touch with him now than ever before. For the past few weeks, they had barely spoken to each other. It seemed like every time Nick entered a room, Grissom was leaving. Whenever Grissom passed him in the hallway, he gave Nick a glance and a nod, but not a word. And they had yet to work a case together since Nick had returned to work.

Until today.

"Gris, I've got the DNA results from the Herring case. It's a match; enough for a warrant. Do you want me to drive or do you want to?"

Grissom looked up as Nick entered his office, peering at him over the forensics journal he was reading. "Where's Warrick? He was supposed to be handling that."

"Ecklie pulled him to take a 419 in Henderson. Day shift's tapped out again."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "All right. Just leave me the file and you can go home. I'll take care of it." He went back to reading the journal.

Nick walked over to the desk, but held onto the file. "It's no problem. I'm short on hours this week and don't have anything to do this morning. I can help you out."

"Go home, Nick," Grissom replied, still focused on the journal.

Nick stared at Grissom for a moment, then turned and headed toward the door. But instead of leaving, he reached out and slowly closed it. The click of the lock was as loud as a bang in the small room. He turned back around to find Grissom eyeing him over his glasses. Nick approached the desk and sat down in one of the hard, plastic chairs.

Grissom took off his glasses, holding them in one hand, and chewed on an earpiece as he continued to stare at Nick, waiting for him to say something to explain his behavior. When Nick didn't speak, Grissom laid the glasses on his desk, folded his hands in front of him, and asked evenly, "Is there something you need, Nick?"

Nick had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. The list of things he needed was endless, but right now only one thing was on his mind. He leaned forward in the chair, narrowing the gap between himself and Grissom. "As a matter of fact, there is."

"Go on."

"I need to know why you're treating me like I have the plague. I mean, I know we've never really been close, and you've kept your distance even when we had to work together, but lately…lately it's like I'm not just invisible anymore, I'm repulsive."

Grissom sighed. "You're not repulsive, Nick."

"Well, that's good to know," Nick snorted. "But it's not exactly where I was going with this."

"So where are you going with it?" Grissom leaned back in his chair.

Nick scooted his chair closer to the desk as he continued to lean forward. "I need to know what's wrong, because I can't stand all this tension every time I'm around you. You practically break your neck trying to get away whenever you see me coming."

A slight flush colored Grissom's face as he listened to Nick's words. He hadn't realized it was that obvious, but it was true. He was even more uncomfortable around Nick than before, and he couldn't hide it anymore.

"I'm sorry, Nick."

Nick waited for him to finish with something like "I don't mean to be that way" or "You've misinterpreted it" or some other form of denial. But Grissom's next words were like bullets that pierced his heart.

"You're right."

Now it was Nick's turn to lean back in his chair. Suddenly, he didn't feel so bold. He nodded his head while looking down, then off to the side, then down again. "Well, yeah…I thought so," he mumbled as he got to his feet to leave.

"Sit down, Nick," Grissom commanded. "You wanted an answer, so let's talk."

Nick stopped and looked back at his supervisor doubtfully, but returned to his chair. His courage now faltering a bit, he waited for Grissom to continue.

Grissom sighed. "Nick, it's no secret that I'm not the most open or emotional guy around."

"Gris," Nick moaned. "Please don't tell me you're giving me the 'It's not you, it's me' speech. Because I know damn well you don't have a problem opening up to some of the others around here."

"Just listen, okay?" Grissom said, holding up a hand. "I'm willing to acknowledge my faults. And you're right. It's different with you. You're a really emotional guy…wearing your heart on your sleeve, always empathizing with people and showing affection." He pause, then asked, "It comes easy for you, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Nick replied. "I never really thought about it. That's just the way I am."

"Right. And this is who I am." Grissom shook his head and threw up his hands. "For better or for worse, I'm not like you, Nick."

Nick smiled a small smile and, recalling a similar conversation he'd had with Grissom, replied, "Well, we certainly don't need another me around here."

Grissom smiled in return. "On the contrary, I think we…I…could learn a lot from you."

Laughing, Nick replied, "Are you kidding me? You won't come within ten feet of me these days. Just what exactly are you going to learn by staying away from me?"

"Well, I think I already have learned things, Nick." Grissom took a deep breath and continued. "When you were missing…I felt a lot of things I hadn't felt before…not _really_ felt. It seemed like everything came out at once, all rolled into one really painful emotion. I felt anger and fear, frustration, desperation, helplessness, rage and sadness. And I felt useless."

Nick took a moment to consider Grissom's words. The man he admired so much…the man he'd always looked up to and aspired to please…was sitting across from him looking completely defeated. "I thought you said you learned something. I don't see you being any more open now than you were before. In fact, it's the opposite. You even said so…that you're avoiding me more than ever. Why?"

Grissom sighed, shaking his head, and threw his hands up in exasperation. "Because it didn't feel good, Nick! Because I don't _like_ feeling those emotions. I do my best every day to detach myself from everything so I _don't_ feel them. But…" He paused, sighed again, and looked at Nick who was now on the edge of his chair. "But when I look at you now, I feel everything again," he said simply. "You remind me of that night, and those feelings come back to the surface again, and…I don't know how to deal with them."

Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Grissom really sitting in front of him, telling him how horrible that night was because it made _him_ feel bad? His mind flooded with sarcastic replies, but he kept them to himself. Nick had asked for the reason and now that he had it, who was he to judge it?

After a long pause, Nick spoke softly. "You know, Grissom…over the years I've associated _you_ with a lot of things I didn't want to feel either. You intimidated me, made me feel nervous, incompetent, and immature. You treated everyone else like they were at least equal to you, but I always felt like I could never measure up to your expectations."

Grissom listened to Nick without acknowledging what he was saying…no nodding of the head, no words of understanding. He had never meant to make Nick feel that way, but somewhere in his heart he knew that was exactly what he had done.

Nick continued, "But the thing is…I don't feel that way anymore."

Surprised, Grissom waited for an explanation and then, getting none, finally spoke. "Why not, Nick?"

Nick sat back in his chair as he continued, "Because …screw the touchy feely shit. When it came down to it, you were there for me." He laughed, shaking his head. "Of course, it figures that when you were finally able to reach out to me, it was through a plastic barrier, but still…you were there."

The irony of that moment had not been lost on Grissom either, but he simply replied, "I'm glad I was able to help, Nick."

"You know," Nick said, clearing his throat and lowering his eyes, "when you were there, yelling at me through the plastic…for a minute I…I thought you were my dad." He looked up to find Grissom looking as uncomfortable as a fish out of water, and just as panicked. Nick smiled. "Sorry. Too much for you at once?"

Grissom laughed, shaking his head. "Small steps, Nick. Small steps."

Nick's eyes met Grissom's. "You know, I used to feel like maybe I didn't deserve your respect, and that's why you weren't giving it." He sighed. "But that night…you went all out for me…risked your life. You were the only one who stayed with me. I guess…I guess that other stuff doesn't matter so much to me anymore." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Really?" Grissom asked, eyebrows raised, wondering if Nick was just trying to pretend that things were all right between them now.

Nick replied, "Really. Nothing like a little near death experience to put things into perspective." He smiled wryly and looked down.

"For what it's worth, Nick," Grissom said, "I _am _sorry for the way things have been between us…now and in the past."

Nick looked up at him and smiled. "Yeah…I know. It's okay." He got up to leave. "One more thing," he said as he turned and walked toward the door. "Those emotions you say you were feeling? They're not all bad, you know. You might even want to try out a few more."

Grissom laughed. "I just might do that. And Nicky?"

Nick stopped and looked over his shoulder at Grissom. "Yeah?"

"Just so you know. I've never…ever…been disappointed in you."

**We're halfway through. :-) Thanks for letting me hear from you if you're enjoying it. Feedback is appreciated! Thanks again to the talented and lovely Egeria for her help and advice!**


	4. Chapter 4 DA

**Chapter 4**

**D.A.**

**As a reminder, D.A. Michaels was the cop on the scene when Nick was abducted.**

_Dogs bare teeth as I walk by_

"Stokes!"

Nick stopped in his tracks, sighed, and muttered under his breath, "Shit."

This was Nick's first visit to the Las Vegas Police Department since his return to work. He hadn't avoided going there on purpose, but it was bad enough having to see some of the officers in the field. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing so many of them at once at the station. He knew they were genuinely concerned about him, and he appreciated that, but still it was difficult to deal with it all. At crime scenes they asked how he was and said they were glad he was okay. He thanked them and told them, as he usually did when asked, that he was "fine". But the truth was that he cringed every time one of them approached him about it. All it did was remind him of everything all over again and make it more difficult to pretend that things were okay.

He had come by the station to drop off a case file for Jim Brass and had gotten lucky in that Jim wasn't in his office, allowing him to leave the file on his desk without having to speak to him. Of course, he had seen and talked to the police captain several times over the past few weeks, but still…he didn't want to spend any more time in the station than he had to, for fear he would attract attention. So he had almost made it out without anyone else noticing him or stopping him. Almost, but not quite.

Nick turned around to see who was bellowing at him and rolled his eyes when he saw Officer D.A. Michaels marching down the hall toward him. He hadn't seen Michaels since that fateful night at the corner of Flamingo and Koval.

"Hey! Where do you get off ignoring me?!" Michaels yelled as he caught up to Nick.

"What are you talking about, D.A.?" Nick leaned back, trying to put some distance between himself and the sputtering officer.

"I've left you at least a dozen messages!"

"Sorry, man. I've been busy. No offense." Nick turned and walked toward the exit.

D.A. called after him, "What?! You're too good to return my calls now that you're some kind of superman?!"

Ignoring the comment, Nick exited the station and entered the parking garage. He heard the door open again behind him and he mumbled under his breath, "Son of a bitch." He quickened his pace, heading for his truck.

"You know I got suspended because of you? And then I spent the next two months on desk duty like a fucking trainee!" D.A. yelled, his voice echoing through the dark garage.

"Yeah? Well, you should have been doing your job," Nick snapped, continuing down the aisle of vehicles.

D.A. ran to catch up to Nick and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. "No, _you_ should have been doing _your_ job!" he shouted in Nick's face.

Taken by surprise as the officer grabbed him, Nick pulled his right arm back, ready to hit Michaels, but instead shoved him roughly with his left hand. "Hey back off, asshole!" he growled as D.A. lost his balance and landed hard on his rear end.

D.A. quickly recovered and jumped to his feet again. "Nice one, Stokes," he sneered as he brushed himself off. "Just add 'assault' to your stellar resume."

"Get out of here, D.A."

"Hey man, all I was trying to do was give you a call to say I'm sorry about what happened, but you've gotta be a jerk about it."

Nick laughed. "_I'm_ being a jerk?? Sorry…must have something to do with nearly being killed because of your incompetence."

"Me?! Hey, you were the idiot who went traipsing off on your own."

"Because you couldn't handle a messy crime scene."

"You should have waited!" the officer shouted.

"For what?" Nick retorted. "You to finish puking your guts out? Seemed like it was gonna take awhile."

"You were _supposed_…to _wait_," D.A. repeated evenly.

"Are you kidding me?" Nick asked incredulously.

D.A. ignored the response and continued, "But you had to be the big man and go off on your own and get yourself kidnapped and let me take the fall for it."

Nick smiled thinly and shook his head. "You're crazy, man. That's it. I'm out of here." He turned around and approached his SUV, pulling his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door.

The keys suddenly clattered to the ground as D.A. grabbed Nick's right arm and tried to jerk him around. Nick snatched his arm away and spun around on his own. He pulled his fist back and this time he did connect with D.A.'s face, sending him reeling backwards.

Nick moved forward quickly and grabbed D.A. His hands clutched the front of the officer's shirt tightly as he pulled him closer and then slammed his back against the side of the truck.

"I told you to _back_ _off_," Nick snarled, just inches away from D.A.'s face.

D.A. was still stunned from the blow and momentarily looked frightened as Nick held him firmly against the vehicle. His fear was quickly replaced, however, with his ever growing anger. He brought his hands up and tried to push Nick away. "Get the fuck off of me!" he shouted.

Nick held fast, undeterred by the effort. "You little prick," he spat out. "How the _hell_ is this about you?" He then pulled D.A. away from the truck and spun him around, letting go of the shirt so that the officer stumbled back a few feet and again landed on his rear.

D.A. quickly stood up and raged again, this time keeping his distance from the fuming CSI. "You have _no _idea what it's been like for me!" he shouted, pointing at Nick. "Everybody looks at me like I'm Hitler, if they look at me at all! I'm just dumbass D.A., the loser cop who lost his CSI at a crime scene."

Nick folded his arms and leaned back again the truck to listen as the officer continued.

"I can't even walk down the halls at the station without hearing somebody snicker or whisper when I go by. And crime scenes are even worse. They think I don't notice, but when the lab guys pull up…I see them rolling their eyes when they realize they have to work with me. Sons of bitches…they always did think they were better than cops, but now…now that I messed up and let the golden boy get taken…" He looked up at Nick as he finished, "…now I'm _really_ on everybody's shit list."

"So whose fault is that?" asked Nick dryly.

"I _said_ I was sorry!"

"Yeah, I know. I know you're sorry. Warrick told me you said to tell me you were sorry about 'that whole abduction thing'," Nick responded wryly as he continued to lean against his SUV.

"Well what you want from me?!"

"I don't want anything from you, D.A. Just stay away from me." Nick sighed as he stood up straight and put his hands in his pockets. "You need to just get back to work and forget about it."

"I told you. I _can't_! They won't let me! No one's going to forget. No one's going to let _me_ forget. Everyone feels sorry for you, but they _hate_ me! And you strut around like you're some kind of hero, letting me take all the blame for everything."

Nick was getting enraged again. The idiot cop just wouldn't shut up. "Hey, _I_ never blamed you for any of it!" he yelled, pointing his finger at the other man. "But you come out here shooting off your mouth, acting like _I _owe _you_ something…like _your_ fucking life was ruined because of this, and yeah…yeah, it pisses me off. So you had to spend two weeks sitting at home and two months in an office? So what?! It was better than 24 hours underground and a week in the hospital, I can promise you that."

"Oh, your life was ruined? Yeah, I see how ruined it is. Everyone is worried about you and wants to help you and thinks you walk on water. That must be hell to deal with every day," D.A. sneered sarcastically.

"Hell?!" Nick laughed and shook his head. "You have no concept of hell, man, believe me. But I'll tell you what I _do_ deal with every day." He walked forward, slowly closing the gap between himself and D.A. "When I pull up to a crime scene in the dark and turn off the car, my hands start shaking so badly I can barely pull the key out. I have to look in the side mirrors before I unlock the door, and after I get out I have to look all around before I walk to the scene."

Nick kept moving forward until he was about two feet away from D.A., but the officer stood his ground.

"I head over to the officer in charge," Nick went on, "and yeah, I'm always glad to see it isn't you."

D.A. winced and looked at the ground.

"Then I have to start looking for evidence. And my heart's pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. When I see something on the ground, I throw the marker down and photograph it with a zoom lens while standing up. Then I bend straight over to pick it up…no crouching." Nick laughed. "I look like a damn dog after I straighten up, turning around in circles and looking all around again."

"Yeah, yeah," D.A. scoffed as he backed away and looked toward the garage door.

"You're lucky all you got was a pop in the mouth, man," said Nick. "Warrick got a black eye when _he_ came up behind me like that." He looked down, ashamed. When he looked back up, D.A. was nowhere in sight, the door clicking softly shut.

Nick sighed and walked back over to his SUV. He picked his keys up off the ground, and with a shaky hand he put one key in the lock. After looking in the back seat, he glanced around the truck before getting in, closing the door, pushing the lock, and checking the mirrors. He started the engine and sighed, took one last look in the back seat, and slowly backed out of the parking space.

**Thanks again to all the readers and especially the reviewers! I love hearing from you and knowing what you think. Two thumbs up for Egeria and all her help on this chapter! Two more to go, coming up soon!**


	5. Chapter 5 Catherine

**A/N: Sorry for publishing this chapter again, but I forgot to add in my notes the first time. I certainly can't put a chapter up without thanking Egeria again for her consultation and input. Any mistakes in any of the chapters are mine and were made after she reviewed them. :-)**

**And once again, thanks to all who are reading and letting me know that you're enjoying it. :-) One more chapter to go after this one!  
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**Chapter 5**

**Catherine  
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_Mothers see me and cry_

"The sheriff wanted you suspended."

Catherine Willows was sitting in her office, the door closed and the blinds drawn.

Nick sat in one of the two chairs across the desk from his former supervisor. His head was bowed, eyes staring at his hands as he nervously tugged at the silver ring he wore on one finger, twisting and twirling it as though it might magically open the floor beneath him, allowing him to disappear. If only things were that easy.

"Did you hear me?" Catherine asked, leaning across the desk and trying unsuccessfully to make eye contact with him.

"Yeah, I heard you," he mumbled without looking up. "So why didn't Grissom do it?"

"When has he ever suspended _any_body when he's been told to? He stuck his neck out for you though, Nick. He promised it would be taken care of and never happen again."

"Then why isn't _he _giving me this speech?"

Catherine sighed and looked at him sadly. "I'm not giving you a speech. I'm just trying to figure out what's wrong. I want to help you. You seem so cut off lately. And this…this just isn't like you."

Nick paused, trying to think of the right words to say…something to get him out of this and make her believe he was okay. "I'm sorry, Cath," he finally said. "I just get…I'm a little touchy these days. That's all." He gauged her expression and realized that those were not the words she wanted to hear.

"Touchy?" she replied. "Is that what you call it? Nick, this is the third complaint about you in the past month alone. We'll be lucky if this guy doesn't sue the department."

_Here we go._ "He had it coming. You know he did."

"So what?! That's not the way we do things."

Nick leaned forward quickly, practically coming out of the chair as he exclaimed, "The little jerk was sitting there with this shit-eating grin on his face the whole time! And Vega was just tiptoeing around him, practically _begging _the asshole to tell us where his girlfriend was. What did you expect me to do? He wasn't gonna talk."

"And did kicking his chair out from under him get him to talk?"

"No," he answered softly as he settled back into the chair, his eyes cast down again. He was surprised to see that his hands were still moving, twisting the ring. His finger was starting to turn red from the motion, and he could barely feel it now.

"Honestly, Nick, if it had been up to me, I probably _would_ have suspended you."

He looked up at her, surprised.

Catherine continued, "Something's wrong. If the only way to get you to see it and to get you some help is to suspend you, then that's what I'd do. I know you, Nick. I know you aren't the type to lose your temper and cross the line with a suspect, touchy or not. What's wrong?"

He gave a small laugh. "What's wrong? How much time do you have?" She didn't respond, but fixed her eyes on him with a look he had come to know all too well. "C'mon, Cath, don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm your kid and my dog just died."

She sighed. "I told you. I'm concerned, that's all."

"You're way past concerned, Catherine," Nick replied. "Look, I appreciate it, but I have enough shit of my own to deal with, you know? I can't handle everyone else's too. I've got Warrick's guilt and now your pity…"

Catherine opened her mouth to protest, but quickly stopped herself. It was true that she pitied him. She couldn't deny it.

"It's not just tonight," Nick continued. "You look at me like that all the time now…ever since…I've been back." He looked down at his hands again and noticed that they were now shaking, even though he had a death grip on the ring he had stopped twisting.

Catherine got up from behind the desk and walked around to where he sat. Turning the other chair around so it faced him, she sat down and leaned over. "I'm sorry, Nick," she said softly. "I know you don't want anyone feeling sorry for you. But I can't help caring about you."

She could barely hear his reply.

"I don't think I can do it anymore," he whispered.

Catherine's heart broke upon hearing those words. She had seen him depressed before, even once to the point where he had actually cried in front of her. But this time…now, as he sat next to her looking like a lost little boy, she sensed for the first time ever that he felt truly hopeless. It was as though he had already given up…given in to whatever it was that was consuming him. It was as though he were no longer living.

She cleared her thoughts and took a deep breath before asking, "Can't do what, Nick?" She leaned in even closer. "Tell me what's going on."

He slowly shook his bowed head from side to side, biting his lower lip and wishing like hell he could be anyplace but in this office right now. He finally looked up at her, and she could see the unshed tears shining in his dark eyes, like liquid chocolate. "I just can't…make everybody happy," he said simply with a small shrug. "Be what they want me to be. Act like…like nothing happened."

Catherine's heart fell again. No matter what terrible things happened to him, it always seemed that he came out of it worried about everyone but himself. "Nick, no one expects you to be perfect or unaffected by what happened. And no one wants you to act like it either," she tried to reassure him.

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head vehemently. "They do! Everyone is uncomfortable around me now. They either act like I'm not there or like they're afraid of me or like I'm a ghost back from the dead or…like they pity me."

Catherine reached over and placed her hands over his, stilling them. The touch of her cool skin was like a balm for his weary soul and he felt his body relax at the connection. He stared at their hands, marveling at how much a simple touch could do for a person. One of the tears he had been reining in escaped and fell, landing on her wrist. "I just…" he whispered.

She tightened her hold on his hands as she asked, "Just what, Nick?"

He sniffed and raised an arm high enough to wipe his eyes on his sleeve without breaking contact with his friend. "I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm nervous at crime scenes, I'm snapping at people, I'm obviously not dealing with suspects well…I'm at work all night and then I'm trying to find something to do so I don't have to go home. On my nights off I spend hours in a chair in front of the TV and then I walk around in a daze all day."

"You're having trouble sleeping?" Catherine asked. "You never said anything."

"It's dark, I'm lying down…do the math," he responded coldly.

She looked hurt. "C'mon, Nicky," she said softly, gently placing her hand on his arm. "It took you crossing the line for me to realize you weren't coping well. You can't walk around pretending to be okay and then expect us to know something's wrong."

"I don't expect you to know. I don't _want _you to know. Hell…I just don't want anything to _be_ wrong!" He leaned over, putting his face in his hands. "Everyone keeps saying it's all right, but it's not. Nothing's all right anymore...nothing."

Catherine moved her hand up to his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. He flinched a little at the gesture, but didn't move away. "Are you talking to anyone?" she asked. "A counselor or a therapist?"

Nick sniffed a little and sighed, shaking his head. "I did. At first. You know…they made me go see someone." He refused to look at her as he continued. "The guy said I was fine."

"You weren't honest with him, were you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You pretended with him too, just so you could get back to work, didn't you?" she asked.

"I don't know. Probably. Yeah." Nick let go of the ring. It wouldn't even move now, his finger was so swollen. "But…I think…I think I really did believe it myself. And now…everything's all fucked up again."

Catherine put her hands back over his as she said softly, "I think you need to talk to someone. You should try again, Nick. I know someone…he's really good at this…if you're interested." She tread lightly, afraid she might lose ground with him if she pushed too fast.

Nick hesitated before answering, "Maybe. I don't know."

She tightened her grip on his hands and said quietly, "He's helped me through a lot of things." She bent over so she could look into his face. "I'd go with you if you want." She smiled at him.

Nick laughed a little, took her hands and brought them up to his face, giving her a small kiss on her knuckles. Then he put his arms around her and pulled her into a warm embrace. She reciprocated, and he whispered into her ear, "Thanks, Cath."

She hugged him tighter and said, "Anytime."

He felt like he could stay there all day, wrapped in the warmth and safety of her arms. He reluctantly let go, but he took comfort in the fact that he no longer felt alone. He exhaled deeply and asked her, "Why does this shit happen to me?"

Catherine sighed. "I don't know, Nick. But it's not fair. I do know that."

He looked at her. "I'm sorry, Cath. I know you've had more than your share of crap to deal with too. I just…sometimes I wonder…what the hell is the point of it all?"

"Just to get through it, I guess." She shrugged and gave him a small smile.

His deep brown eyes were staring at her, his long, dark lashes shiny with the remnants of his tears. "Why?"

Catherine's smile had grown into a large one. "So we can keep on living."


	6. Chapter 6 Nick

**Here it is...the final chapter. It's really hard for me to end it. It's been so much fun creating this and so great to hear from people who are enjoying it. Please keep reviewing and letting me know what you think. :-)**

**After you've read the whole thing, I again recommend going to Carrie Newcomer's website and listening to "Lazarus" (it's a partial version on the webplayer). It's such a beautiful, sad song, and it was the inspiration for this whole thing.**

**Thanks to everyone who read and especially to those who dropped a review or two. And special thanks to Egeria for her support and input and for just plain indulging me. You're the best!**

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**Chapter 6**

**Nick**

_Now that he's gone_

_Now the world has moved on_

_Since he called my name _

_Nothing's the same._

"_He lived his life to the fullest each day, as if it was his last day."_

Grissom's words had echoed through the crowded church a month ago, and now they were echoing through Nick's mind. Like the church, it too was full, but of thoughts and feelings and memories of the man he had called his friend. His best friend. Warrick Brown.

Nick was sitting on a bench in the lab's locker room, staring at Warrick's closed locker door. It hadn't been opened since the initial search during the investigation of his murder. Ecklie had been the one to perform that task. Nothing of interest had been found, and the locker had remained undisturbed ever since that day.

Nick sighed and wondered if today was the day. Would this be the day that he finally opened the locker? He bowed his head and stared at the floor as he thought. To open it…to take everything out and leave it empty…to see and touch those items that were personal to Warrick…that would mean facing the fact that he wasn't coming back. And for Nick, that would mean moving forward without him.

Nick looked up at the locker in front of him. There was no name on it…nothing to identify it except the number "17". But Nick could have found it in the dark. It was right next to his. How many times had he sat here on this bench with Warrick, talking about their weekend or the sports scores? How many times had he stood in front of the locker, laughing as Warrick bragged about his latest love interest or boasted about solving a tough case? There were too many times to count. The silence in the room now was deafening. But the echoes in Nick's mind were loud and clear.

Nick shook his head, sighed, and stood up. He clipped his ID badge to his belt and walked out of the locker room.

_I can't sleep or rest _

_I feel lost and hard pressed._

_I wander these rooms _

_still looking for you._

He had some time to spare before his shift started, so he headed to the break room intending to grab a snack. The rest of the lab seemed as quiet as the locker room had as he walked through the halls. But although there were no sounds, there was activity. As he passed each lab's doors and windows, Nick saw the glances. They were just as he remembered them from 3 years ago. It was the same way they had looked at him after his kidnapping.

Hodges' eyes peered up over his microscope and slowly followed him from left to right as he passed the door.

Henry raised his head up from the papers he was studying, then quickly lowered it again as Nick turned to face him as he walked by the window.

Mandy saw him coming from her seat in the print lab and met his gaze. Her sad eyes held his until he was out of her sight.

Once again, Nick Stokes was under the scrutiny of his coworkers. Once again he was the focus of attention, the object of everyone's curiosity. It wouldn't surprise him if they were placing bets on how this most recent traumatic event was going to affect him. Was he going to break down? If so, would he do it in front of them or behind closed doors? Would he quit his job? And if so, when? His life had again turned into a real life soap opera for everyone to watch.

Nick tried to shake off the stares and focused his attention on the break room at the end of the hallway. He walked in and looked around the empty room, then rustled through the small refrigerator until he found his stash of fruit. He pulled out an apple and sat in a chair in the corner, easing himself back into the soft cushion and closing his eyes. And again, the voices echoed.

"_Oh, me and him? Working together? Oh, it's on."_

"_Victim, suspect, crime scene. Like a canary…it sings."_

"_A flip of a fucking coin…if I had lost that toss I'd be dead now!"_

_Jesus!_ Nick jumped up from the chair. The apple fell from his hand and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop just under the microwave stand. His heart pounding, Nick looked wildly around the room, but there was nothing there. There was no one there.

Nick sat back down on the edge of the chair, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. Warrick's words were still tumbling through his mind with his own thoughts like dice on a craps table. _Dead now. Dead now. He'd be dead now._ Nick shook his head. _He's dead now. _

Nick stood up and took one more look around the empty room before picking the apple up off the floor, tossing it into the trash, and walking out.

_Now I ought to be grateful _

_to drink from the grail_

_But I don't belong _

_on either side of this veil._

Nick headed a few feet down the hallway to the Audio Visual lab to pick up a copy of a surveillance tape he needed to deliver to Detective Vega. The room was empty, but there was a note from Archie saying he had left the tape with the evidence clerk for Nick. As he turned to leave, his eye caught the large screen on the wall. The room was filled, of course, with many smaller screens. But this was the one they used most often. This was the one where they could see the video evidence most clearly. This was the one they had watched him on.

He remembered how he had felt when they told him about the webcam. He was mortified at first to know that they had seen every moment of his ordeal…every second of fear, right down to him recording his last words left on the tape for his family to hear.

He knew that in the end the webcam had been vitally instrumental in leading to his rescue. Without it, he surely would have been dead when…if…they found him. That knowledge helped alleviate some of his embarrassment. But it was a spontaneous conversation with Warrick that finally put him at peace with it.

It was just after Nick had asked Archie to compare Kelly Gordon's voice on tape to the "Walter Gordon case" tape. Sitting at the large monitor in the AV lab with Warrick a few days later, he had casually mentioned the tape to him. Warrick had been furious that Grissom had kept the information a secret from Nick.

"That's just wrong, man," Warrick said.

"It's okay, Warrick," Nick replied. "I guess that was just the final piece, huh?"

"To what?"

"I mean, you guys all saw me…what I was going through. Now you can hear it too." Nick shrugged and looked away, studying a small tear in the carpet.

"No one's going to hear it, man. Archie and Grissom…that's it."

"Yeah," Nick answered, eyes still fixed on the floor. "But everybody saw."

"I know," Warrick said softly, feeling empathy for his friend. "But it's a good thing we did. You know that, right? We might not have found you if we hadn't."

Nick nodded, still avoiding Warrick's eyes. "I know…I know…but still…"

"You know…we weren't just watching for clues. It just felt like…I don't know…if we were watching then it was like we were with you…like you didn't have to go through it alone."

Nick looked up. "Really?"

Warrick nodded. "I mean…you were never alone for a second, man. We made sure someone was with you the whole time. It was just that sometimes…it felt like it was all we could do. But at least it was something."

"Thanks, Warrick." Nick smiled a small smile. "I know it was hard for you guys too."

"Yeah," Warrick responded quietly. Now it was his turn to look at the floor. "Yeah, it was."

"You okay?"

There was no response.

"Hey…what's the matter?"

Warrick continued to look at the floor as he whispered, so low that Nick had to lean in to hear, "I thought you killed yourself."

Nick sat back, bewildered. "You mean when you found me?"

"No." Warrick looked up at Nick. "Before. When you shot out the light. I was watching."

"Oh." Nick swallowed hard and studied his hands as he clasped and unclasped them.

"I couldn't figure out what you were doing with that gum, sticking it all up in your ears and everything. And then…I saw the gun up by your face, and then there was a flash and…everything went black."

"I'm sorry, man."

Warrick laughed a little as he continued, "And then the screen lit up again with that damn green glow and there you were, you son of a bitch, laughing like some crazed hyena." He grew somber again. "You scared the shit out of me, man."

"I'm sorry," Nick said again.

Warrick sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face.

They sat in silence for a few moments, each man lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Nick broke the quiet. "Hey, Warrick?"

"Yeah?"

"If I was gonna kill myself, why the hell would I be worried about my ears?"

The two friends had then looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Standing in the empty room, remembering it now, Nick chuckled a little to himself, but the absence of Warrick's laughter quickly took its toll and he sat down as his grief overtook him. Face in his hands, Nick cried for the friend he had lost and missed so terribly. He cried for the little boy who would never know the wonderful man who was his father. He cried because Warrick had saved him. And he cried because he hadn't been able to do the same for his friend.

Drained and exhausted, his face wet with tears, Nick sniffed a little and sighed, looking around the dim room one last time before getting up and leaving. Feeling the stares again as he walked down the hall, he wiped his eyes with one hand as he turned to look at Mandy, nodded at Henry, and gave a small wave to Hodges.

When he arrived at the end of the hallway, he paused, turned right, and slowly walked into the room. He reached out and his hand felt the cool, smooth metal. He ran his fingers over the small raised numbers: 17. He leaned his head against the locker door for a moment, then raised his eyes to the ceiling as he grasped the handle and pulled the door open.


End file.
